


Paula Does a Thing

by Pokey



Category: Mother 2: Gyiyg no Gyakushuu | EarthBound
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, And dresses like one too, And with green eyes instead of grey, Because she's Irish as fuck (tm), Character Study, F/M, Girls just wanna have fuck, How can i pretend that these fingers are a big ol weiner if there aint no weiner, I forgot to write headcanon there, I probably like tits and ass more than i like dick, I should prolly mention that Paula's appearance is essentially mine but a lot taller, I suppose, I think that works?, I used to be good at writing apparently, It seriously affects the flow of her thoughts, Lesbian porn is still boring outside of fic writing though, Master Belch - Freeform, Missionary Position, Ness is a dork, OK this is actually pretty hot ngl, Oh and I updated it so it's even better I think, Oops, Part of it stems from her need for attention, Paula has ADD, Paula's a tomboy, Paula's tall lanky and pale, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, She wants to be loved in a way that parents simply can't provide, Smut, Snake Eyes - Freeform, Summers (Earthbound), The rest is all me bitch, These last eight tags were added like 8 months after the original publication, This is supported further by how teenagers have a bit more freedom to do what they want than kids, Whereas sprites like tracy and picky are a couple pixels shorter, is mentioned, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokey/pseuds/Pokey
Summary: Paula had been the one to send for Ness, sure, but she didn't know he was gonna be hot. She kind of expected a kid, and while he dresses like one (because he's a dork more than anything else), she's pretty damn sure her body wouldn't be constantly in this flushed state of distracted pining for him if that were the case.They've been traveling for a while now, and her urges have only gotten stronger.





	Paula Does a Thing

**Author's Note:**

> All she needs... is a spark. 
> 
> * Paula does an impression of the Sniper Rifle from Red Faction!  
> * Everyone looks at her weird.  
> "They wouldn't get the reference anyway."
> 
> \----  
> This is essentially me if I were in this situation. Paula's still a bit more gutsy, but to be fair, she had constant exposure to her crush for two weeks straight.

First thing that happens this morning is you roll over, in an attempt to get over to the cooler part of the sheets. Of course, you have reason to be slightly alarmed when your back collides with something way too soon, when your feet brush up against woolen socks.  
  
Fuck fuck fuck what on Earth have you just rolled into, also these socks have a nice texture, and actually this person is pretty sturdy.  
  
You breathe in, and breathe out. That's right. Ness. You've been traveling together for weeks, on a mission to stop this immortal evil that one struggles to comprehend. Man, so much slips your mind for the first couple seconds of being awake. Where are we right now?  
  
Summers. Oh, god. It's hot, and humid, and like, sticky and shit, and the sun burns your pasty-ass skin, and the heat causes your stomach to overheat, makes you nauseous and fatigued. Man, that reminds you of the time when you were 12 and kept going back and forth between hot and cold and it gave you a fever. Not 12 anymore, though. Now, you're quite the strapping young lass, if you do say so yourself. If only Ness would take the goddamn hint. Hello, you're physically attractive (well, you're pretty sure you are)? Come on up and admit your crush.  
  
You realize, of course, that you sounded incredibly bitchy right there, but, for a little bit of context. You're observant as hell when you want to be, in your opinion, and you can read body language fairly well, you think. Therefore, the other day you decided to test your suspicions with an experiment: you made a point to walk ever so slightly closer behind Ness than usual, maybe a couple of inches. He'd walked more stiffly, definitely, and you smiled. You only felt it was okay to do so once you were sure no one was looking, though, because you didn't really want to have to explain yourself to some nosy kid (cough, Jeff, hack). Hell, yes, thank God, it was mutual.  
  
You'd repeatedly clenched your fists at your sides, because even though you'd never hurt anyone in your life (well, excluding all the weird evil bullshit you all had been purging from the fiftieth goddamn "Mr. Batty" (yeah, nice name, Ness) in a row), you still couldn't stop yourself from thinking about hypothetical scenarios where you just bash his head in or something, no matter what you tried. Probably wouldn't have such thoughts anymore once you got comfortable enough with him to really open up, because this line of thinking ties into like first impressions and shit. Especially in this case, where the end goal was gaining a cuddle buddy... and maaaybe getting to lose your virginity, if you're lucky -- dude is pretty hot, after all.  
  
You take this moment to recall that your toes are lightly rubbing his socks, that your back is pressed against his (the thought to flip over and press your boobs into his back is discarded as quickly as it comes), that your soft, curly blonde locks are pressing into your cheek now that your heads are getting so close and oh, well, shit, now your face is burning up.  
  
"Mm. Paula?" The feeling must be mutual, you're in the same goddamn bed.  
  
"Yeah?" You tilt your head to look him in the eye. A few strands of black fall over to partially mask the deep pools of green, a lovely emerald that far surpasses your own eyes, how they're lightly tainted by a ring of brown around the pupil.  
  
"Are you ready to get up?" ...Hmm, he sounds pretty not-tired. He must've been awake for a little bit, too. Maybe he was being kept awake by your body pressed into his? God, you hope so. (Your mind screams at you to unbutton your pajama shirt and present, silently ask the dude to fondle you, but you suppress your thoughts, tightly curling your toes.)  
  
"Yeh. No. I guess." You're lucky that you've more or less been in constant contact with him, or else you would still be putting up your weird "sarcastic teenager" front that you still don't quite know the origins of. (You're shoulder-to-shoulder right now, and god damn, that's distracting as fuck.)  
  
"Alright." He lightly pushes the comforter off himself, and gets out of the bed. You immediately roll onto your back, stretching, savoring the much larger amount of space you have on the bed, swishing your legs across the sheets, feeling how your slightly too small pant legs shift up and down your shins. You drink in the contrast between the cold parts of the sheets at the right edge of the bed, beneath your right foot, with the hot indentation made by Ness' body, beneath your left foot.

"Jeff said he had some things he needed to go out and collect for some new gizmo, and that he didn't want to wait up for us." Interesting. You find the prospect of wandering about town by yourself intriguing, but then again, you were definitely more at home... well... at home. Even if you could easily make a man burn alive, you don't like the idea of a confrontation (especially because of how scared you are that you might end up enjoying it, listening to the stomach-wrenching sounds of a person burning).  
  
"Guess he's a bit of an early bird," you call, stretching in a different fashion, giving a breathy hum as your spine pops one, two, three-four, five, six-seven-eight. Ahh, dopamine, how you love it. Hmm. Speaking of dopamine, the sudden relaxation your muscles are experiencing is making you feel a bit horny. Of course, that's nothing new.  
  
"Yeah. The early Jeff gets the bookworm," Ness chuckles from inside the bathroom.  
  
"Eugh." You sneer -- if anything, Jeff's the bookworm. Didn't even bother coming up with a suitable bird to call him.  
  
"That was was shit-- ooh!" Your hands fly up to your mouth. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck you swore out loud you idiot.  
  
"Dude, did you just--?" You can hear the grin in his voice, but even still, your body experienced a flash of cold sweat, and you are now lying stock still, your previous feeling of being at ease having since evaporated. You need an out.  
  
"I said that joke was bad." Come on, let it go, pleeeease. Drop the subject. (Friggin' sailor-ass casual swearing, motherfucker.)  
  
"Yeah. Whatever." He turns back to the mirror, and after a second more spent with your eyes glued to the bathroom doorway, you shudder with relief. Your parents are super old fashioned in a few ways, if you're frank -- they absolutely abhore swearing. Nothing would come of it, probably, if he did tell, but it still scared you to death thinking about it. There's a telephone literally right in this room, after all.  
  
After a moment, you enthusiastically peer over either side of the bed to search for Ness' bag, planning to fish out your Adderall -- the key to preventing further slip ups like that, hopefully. The texture of the bag bothered your fingers, and the sound it made when you scratched a certain part in this one certain way made you want to die. Plus, your fingernails always seem to get caught on these miniscule threads, which you like to think would still be a problem even if you didn't bite them off. Needless to say, Ness' bag sucks. You'll be damned before you carry a rattley-ass pill bottle in your dress' pocket, though. (Though you went out of your way to make sure whatever you got was 50s as fuck, you suppose it was asking too much to get one with decent soundproofing.)  
  
You spot the bag, and because you're feeling lazy, you bend forward into this weird sitting position, making your spine feel weird and your button-up shirt to crease weird. This whole thing is weird. Fuggin' sentient piles of vomit fueled by pure evil and shit. Oh, god, your skin crawls as you remember the smell, and the way he looked at you with those weird snake eyes. ...Heh, heh. Needless to say, the dice were not rolling in your favor at the time.  
  
"Paula?" You look up, bottle in hand, putting a look of slightly curious apathy on your face.  
  
Your eyes widen as they focus on the lack of pajama pants Ness is wearing. The pajama shirt is really long, sure, but there's a bit left to the imagination here, and you don't like how hot your face is getting.  
  
"Have you seen my shorts?" He looks around, down at the shaggy carpeting. You pretend that you're averting your eyes, swallowing your pill dry (assuming backward swallowing doesn't count) as you eye up Ness' legs.  
  
"Getting awful comfy around me, huh," you mumble. Oh, God, you're getting a lady boner.  
  
Your heartbeat begins to speed up as you remember a few things. One: Jeff is gone. Two: You two are alone. Three: Ness is really cute. Four: the medicine is starting to kick in, and you're feeling a bit confident.

Your breathing gets louder and faster, as does your heartbeat. Memories of Ness endearing himself to you echo in your head: Ness creaming this dude that had you on the ropes, then him wondering why you're thanking him, then you laughing at his thickheaded-ness; Ness coercing you to completely finish a meal (because Adderall works as an appetite suppressant for whatever reason) with a bit of half-hearted cajoling... it was in a restaurant full of people too, but he's pretty soft-spoken, so you let yourself smile like you wanted; Ness comforting you when it first sank in just how far away from home you were (because 'believe him, he knows').

Of course, that goes without saying anything of the raw _power_ he has, and the literal hundreds of times you got to see it in action, devastating the enemy. Though it's not very diverse in terms of how many attacks he can use, his PSI makes you jealous with how hard it hits, and how easy it is for him to conjure, but it makes you want to get into his _pants_ even moreso.

Mannn, if anybody deserves a smooch, it's this guy. Are... are you gonna be the girl who gets to give it to him?

Hhh, hhh, only o-one way to find out, r-right?

"Ness," you start, meekly. You're actually gonna do it?! Wow, go, your mouth! Must be braver than you are!  
  
"Are you..." Yes, yes, go go go! "Are you... romantically interested in me," you mutter, and look anxiously up at him.  
  
"What do you mean?" He's looking back, smiling a bit, though his eyes look equally nervous. You can't meet his gaze, and settle for his vertically-striped pajama shirt.  
  
"Are you romantically interested... in me." You lock eyes, and you can feel your heart pounding. Is this going to be, like, the first time ever that you've displayed serious emotion and not laughed it off?  
  
"...Maybe," he rasps, and you quietly draw a sharp breath. You've died and gone to heaven.

"Really?!" A grin works it's way onto your face.  
  
"Yeah." He starts wringing his hands, and slowly sits atop the bed, near your feet. He's unintentionally crushing your toes the slightest bit, but who gives a flying fuck.  
  
You lean forward and hug him tightly, and sigh happily, ignoring the disgruntled grumbling coming from the small of your back.  
  
"Mmph~" You groan into your mouth the slightest bit when he returns the gesture, putting a hand in your hair.  
  
"Yeah, I always thought you were pretty cute, Paula." AAAAAA, he thinks you're hot! Yes yes yes yes yes!  
  
You nuzzle his cheek with your nose, because verbal communication during these situations is strictly prohibited by your code of honor slash retard brain for a reason you still have yet to pinpoint.  
  
Speaking of non-verbal communication, you are really starting to need to convey your desire to get manhandled.  
  
You lean back away from him, wetting your lips, your eyes repeatedly looking from him down to your shirt. You can see how your dark blue shirt button kinda juts out, displaced by the tension that your perky chest puts on the pastel pajama shirt. You really want to see how he'd react to them. You know, or like to think, anyway, that yours are the best in town-- they're essentially the 'just right' bowl of porridge on most fronts, but the thing you're most proud of _slash_ relieved by is that they haven't, well, sagged.

You've postulated at your mother once before, sauntering about the kitchen, saying that her 'deceptively young-looking' gene that you'd said seems to have passed on to you, might also apply to your tits, or 'radical roundage,' as you'd said. You got a relatively enthused-sounding 'maybe,' and that was enough for you. Given that you look younger than damn-near everybody at school (your cuteass baby face hasn't changed at all in five years), height notwithstanding, you like to think that maybe they'll stay as young as the rest of you.

You've decided. This might be the only chance you get. You deeply breathe in, and out, and in... and then...  
  
"I wanna take my shirt off." Your face is on fire, and now, so is his.  
  
"Okay." He gulps, eyeing your hands as they start to move from their joined position on your lap, and up to the first button. That was really easy, actually, getting him on board. You think about how lucky you are, that you can exploit your body's inherent sex appeal. Other girls might have waited longer than this, but _they're_ all fuckin' mental (well, they also usually don't spend time with their significant other for literally 24/7, for two whole weeks).  _Waiting_  when given the opportunity for something as rad as _sex_ is for fuckin' _chumps_.

You can't really imagine getting through high school without the almighty masturbation, especially due to your tendency to get horny every time your body falls into bed for a post-school nap. Plus: you've always been called a tomboy, and you can't spell 'boy' without 'consumed by lust.' That could just be the borderline Aspergers inhibiting your sense of judgement, but you love Ness, or at least you're pretty sure you do, and you know you can trust him.  
  
You start to unbutton your pajama shirt, being extremely delicate, not daring to look at anything but the steadily increasing amount of skin you're showing. You're kind of at war with yourself: slowly undoing the pressure on your boobs, little though it is, feels really nice. At the same time, though, this is mortifying-- feels like defusing a bomb. One wrong move lands your carcass in a casket.

You finally get to the third-highest button, having saved best for last, and quietly unhook it, slowly parting your shirt, and your thin, dexterous fingers start gripping the sides of the opened fabric even tighter now that you're presenting. Your belly is visibly heaving, and you're beyond anxious, feeling the cold air conditioning on your breasts, knowing that Ness is right there. (Does he like them?) You...  
  
You don't know whether to laugh or cry when you peek an eye open and see the adorable way he looks at your boobs. A single tear streams down from either eye while you let off a little soundless chuckle, so you guess that's what your body's going with.  
  
"Touch me," you say, your voice clipped with nervousness and apprehension.  
  
You exhale hard when he cups your breasts. That's really weird, feeling someone else do it, but it feels really, _really_ nice. You savor the feeling, his hands caressing you. (Your brain is screaming in joy and disbelief.)  
  
"They're so soft." You smile at his awed tone of voice, but refrain from opening your eyes just yet. He lightly squishes them a couple of times, and you squirm a bit, pressing your mouth into a thin line. Dear God, you want to moan. Fucking body, it's safe, you can moan now. Mom and Dad aren't here to catch you.  
  
"Hh--" Your voice isn't used to this. Comes out as a rasp. Thankfully, Ness is giving you a reason to keep practicing. He's so _eager_ to caress you. It's so flattering. Are you actually as hot as you tell yourself you are? Does he have the thing where y'need to feel the texture of things a whole lot too?

"Hn--" You're kind of struggling here, your mind still trying to override your body even as the beautiful stimulation continues. Come onnn, let it out. (Oh God, Ness,  _right_ there, yes.)

"Uh--" Your body urges you on, and your chest is tightening. It's telling you how nice it'll feel... hnngh, gotta, wanna (because you have an addictive personality like that)! You blush, but you grin anyway, feeling your body instinctively jut your chest out and into his hand as it builds in your lungs. Let it go...!

"Uhh~" You let your voice flow, exhaling smoothly, and  _by God,_ ~~you're thinking about Tim Burton films~~  your sex voice is _really_ hot. You're so glad he's here with you. (Meanwhile, your mind is like, 'Oh, wow, that's what that feels like? Man, you can see why the chicks your friends date are so noisy, even if overhearing during hangout time always embarrasses you to no end').  
  
Ness hums in reply, sounding both very on board and very conflicted, now that you've moaned in his ear-- his body language has shifted against you enough to let you know without opening your eyes that he was caught off guard by you, but was by no means turned off.

"Mm!" Speaking of ears, he suddenly has one of yours between his lips (he must have an _ear_ for your special kind of music). You fight with the comforter, clumsily dragging your legs out from beneath the blanket like a pair of caveman-ass clubs, and climb onto Ness' thigh.  
  
"....This is how you straddle, right," you mumble to him, looking down at his face to meet his gaze. It occurs to you that you probably don't have the best breath right now, but it looks like he doesn't care.  
  
"Yeah." Ooh, especially because he's bringing you in for a smooch! Woahhhh!  
  
"Unph!" You grant him access to your mouth, and wow, wow, this is what it feels like. You hug him, pushing your chest into his. You hope to God Jeff doesn't come back right this second and cockblock you, because Ness definitely seems like that kind of guy who "puts others' comfort first", the bastard.  
  
"I would like to engage in intercourse," you say, only breaking it off to tell him you want the dick -- you get very verbose when talking sex, because you're a prude. He looks surprised, but you grin like a madman, wide and knowing, as a boner slowly presses into your thigh.

"You do, too?" Your leg starts yelling at you as Ness gets bigger still, and you agree with the sentiment, pondering how it's hot enough to heat your leg through his boxers and your pants.  
  
"Yeah." ...Can't he say anything else right now? You're ~~not exactly talkative~~ not being all too talkative this morning, so the fact that you're the one carrying this conversation is pretty sad. Make an effort, dude! ...P-pay attention to you, please. Show that you care... even if it'll probably be too hard for you to do the same, because you're fucking mentally crippled and actually exposing weakness like that becomes too fucking scary to think about. Of course, there are a few loopholes that you want to exploit. Like touching. Touching is okay. 'Show, don't tell,' right?

You settle for unbuttoning his shirt first, because if you went straight for home you'd probably have a heart attack. When you're done, you look down and press your boobs into his chest, because wow, you can do that suddenly. His skin looks dark compared to yours, but that's probably because you're Irish as fuck.  
  
"I like them... they're kinda big, aren't they," you say in your lust-induced way of using fucked up syntax, your eyes looking up at his, and he nods slowly. You've always been proud that you grew up to be a particularly busty 30-F before even reaching your twenties.  
  
"C-can I fuck you," you whisper, wincing slightly. You're _both_  in your senior year of high school, you're pretty sure, but you've got Lorraine Baines syndrome, where you're fucking 19 years old (as of August), so it's best to check. You may be the elder here, and you may be taller than him, but words can not describe how safe you feel in his arms right now. You love feeling safe, 'cause you're a paranoid mess like that, and your brain is wired wonky, so of course feeling cozy and safe makes you hot under the collar.  
  
"I don't know, can you," he replies. You grip him tighter as his hand strays beneath the hem of your underwear to glide over your ass, and then he slowly, softly squeezes?! Oh, God, his hands are so delicate...!  
  
" _Uhh_ ~" You really enunciated that time -- your voice really _is_ kind of hot, actually. It's low, lower than any other girl student's voice back home, and kind of husky. You know some dudes really like that. ...Yeah. Yeah! You are cute. What boy wouldn't wanna kiss you, right? ...You, the lanky-ass freak that nearly cried after she couldn't think straight long enough to finish a test. The girl who towers over the other girls, that bird with fucking spooky-ass mind powers like she's some kind of wizard, Harry. God, you feel so pathetic sometimes. You need to feel good, and your happy place, your boy, he's here, and he needs you.

"I want to~," you groan, the temporary lift in your voice betraying your horniness. 'Need to' is more like. You can't believe you used to keep quiet during sexual experiences. ...Granted, you'd have been crucified if your parents heard, then caught you with your hand down your pants (well, maybe not crucifixion, since that's blasphemy, probably). You guess it's a fair trade.

Hmm, they'd probably also have your neck -- _Ness'_ neck, actually -- once they found out that 'some, some _boy_ fucked you!' 'Course, _then_ you get to act all haughty and reveal that it was _allll_ you, bitch! ...Not that this situation would actually happen.  
  
"Okay. Lay down on your back?" Yeah, you can do that. You lie down, placing your right arm over your tits and your left over your stomach, and watch excitedly as your man slowly pulls both your pants and underwear down. You whine, your grip on yourself tightening then, feeling your bare, hot body become veiled in cool air as your pussy is exposed to the world. You're so pale, and a bit on the scrawny side, maybe -- what if he thinks you're too undernourished?  
  
"Paula," he says. "You're really sexy!" You blush even harder. It's always really nice to have people reaffirm the things you desperately try to believe.  
  
"Thay, thank you." You're getting steadily wetter, and you ache even more when dude starts to remove his own pants.  
  
"Oh, wow," you breathe, seeing him spring free from his boxers -- he's more confident than you, definitely. He's got more pubic hair than you, too (but that's not a hard feat to best), and his cock looks like it's maybe slightly bigger than you can hold. "That's _big_ ," you chuckle, and its his turn to blush.  
  
"It'll be a tight fit~," you coo. Ness smiles briefly, then slowly climbs back onto the bed, getting on top of you, and starts to line up with your minge, casting a shadow over you. You let go of your chest and waist to lift up and support yourself on your elbows, seeing, _feeling_ just how close you are to winning him at last. Your paleness has vanished, your cunt flushed a deep, needy scarlet, and you get a bit stiffer hearing that little wet sound, feeling someone-- Ness-- finally touch up to your poor virgin pussy. "Hh." You haven't been this rosy since Winters.  
  
"Yessss," you whisper, sounding more excited than you do aroused. He laughs, and begins to push, agonizingly slowly. You moan despite yourself, leaking more as you feel something that seemed unobtainable press against the lips of your quivering pussy. (Taking his sweet time!) Your vulva is squishing him more and more as he pushes, slowly ( _God_ , that looks so _hot_ ), and you grip the sheets. He feels like he's gonna be so thick and solid! Come on! Hurry, you need him!  
  
"Man, fuckin' _cowar_ \-- a-auhh! _A_ _ugh_ ~!" He interrupted your insult by squeezing his tip past your incredibly slick gate, and your head jerked backward, you could only look at the wall behind you, and-- oh, it's so much better than you could've hoped. Suddenly a huge percentage of your thought processes, like a wall of TV monitors, are shut off, leaving only the contenders: "Wowie, I'm finally gonna get laid," and "I love you, I want to hold you and kiss you and bare my soul to you," as well as "Goddd, God, keep going," and of course, " _AAAAAAAAAAA_ " (currently at the forefront of your thoughts).  
  
"I love you, I think," you say, meekly, your cute disheveled bangs falling over your lidded eyes, and he pushes in deeper... deeper. You vibrate, feeling him dig his way in, and your head is falling back again in increments, and your voice keeps catching, trying to let you groan like a _bear_ , the way you _need_ to. It's true, you do. And you love him too much to let yourself keep from telling him that.  
  
"Mmm~!" You squeeze your eyes shut as he begins to stretch you open. "Ness!"  
  
He slowly pulls back, and the sudden empty feeling makes you think he's leaving for all of a second before he glides back in. The feeling of him actually wanting to stay with you, stay inside you, it's enough to send you reeling.  
  
"Hhhah, hh-a-ah!" Holy fuckkk, dude, his cock is _boiling_. You can feel this coil in your belly starting to wind, and you feel your insides being weakly pushed back by his heartbeat. He's getting a little faster... faster, faster...  
  
"Ohhh, Ness..." Oh, fuck, you're emotional in bed; you can feel a lump in your throat forming...

_Pap, pap, pap, pap..._

But...

"Oohn," Ness whines, squeezing his eyes closed.

B-but, you realize... you don't care. You don't care, because you do. You  _do_ love him.  
  
"Paula," he mumbles, voice wavering, and you suddenly need more.  
  
"Talk to me," you demand, the first few tears streaking down your face. "Tell me I'm good," you beg.  
  
"O-okay! Hah, I love how c-cute you auhh, are! How..." He swallows. "B-big and nice your boobs are..." You laugh a little, and then groan loudly as he scrapes your walls at just such an angle -- more tears fall. "I love how soft you are... your sexy short hair, your tasty lips... your smooth, deep voice..." His voice is at a higher register than most boys you've met, and hearing how you pleasure him makes you so happy and horny.  
  
"Auhh..." You wriggle. You like feeling sexy. You thrive on compliments. "Mmngh, _harder_..." He grunts in assent, and you grasp at your soft locks, feeling his penis speed up again. You want _more_! You _need_ him, please!  
  
"Uhh, uhh!" You're starting to cry in earnest. He's so sweet, and it feels so good. "Ness! I--!" You sniff, squeezing your left boob in your hand enough for it to spill out from between your fingers once you registered your light wobbling. You feel so great right now, you feel pretty and sexy, and he loves you. He said so, and you _believe_ him-- a-ah-- you know you don't, you won't _ever_ want any other man, you'll never want anybody the way you want him, never, never, _never_. "I love how go _ood_ you're fuckin' me! Feel so _good_!" _O_ kay, maybe you're not as good at this as he is, but we're being honest, here (God, you're probably going to look back at that and _criiinge_ \-- that's just man-brag ammunition waiting to be exploited... you know _you're_ going to use this later). There's so much more that you love about him, though.  
  
"I love your eyes, a-and your smile, a-and you're so nice to me! Ahhn! A- _and_ , _mmph!_  you're such a good person!" You squeeze a few tears out of your eyes, and give off a sob. He hugs you, and you feel more tears leave you. "Mmm~!"  
  
" _Harder_ ," you cry, hugging him back tight. He's bobbing in and out, eager to give you what you need, and you love him for that. "Need more, _mmm~!_  More! Auhh, auhh-- wanna, wanna _come_." Your half-purposeful-half-ohmygodimdying loss of eloquence pays off; Ness goes even faster, and your legs start twitching and thrusting erratically.  
  
"Oh, Paula, your voice is so nice!" By coincidence, you groan at that exact moment, and roll your hips, letting your bare bottom leave the bed. He gropes your ass right then, the wonderful boy, and you cry out, throwing your head back, letting your hair spill over your shoulders.

"Baby, please," you wail, hugging him ever tighter, stressing your arms' muscles, and then you're pressing your face into his neck.  
  
"P-Paula... Paula!" You begin to spasm as you slowly approach your peak, your thighs visibly straining, pushing down on the bed. Ness is burning inside you, filling your wet, molten mantle with an inner core of solid iron. You feel like you're gonna melt, that you would welcome it.  
  
"Ness?! N-Ness, ah -- uh'hck!" You're weeping in earnest now, suddenly, sobbing and hiccuping permanently joining your arsenal of sexy sounds. It makes sense, you guess -- you never cry at any other time, anymore, except maybe when your parents legitimately yell at you, but you'll never let anybody know about that.  
  
"God, you're so a- _auhh_ ~! Paula!" He's lifting you up to meet him, holding your thighs. What this means is you get your brain fried in the best possible way, as the g-spot is repeatedly struck, and _scraped_ , and _rammed_  and _kissed_ and _loved_ \--!  
  
"Ah! Aahh! Ahhn!" You begin to yell throatily, clawing at and grasping his shirt, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, and you can feel your PSI crackling, making your hair stand up -- masturbation was supposed to emulate this?!

"Huhh~, ohh~! P-P-Paula!" He wants to make you feel good, you can see it in his eyes! Underneath that lust is so much, so much love, not just for you, but for everybody. He's pure, and beautiful, and he's fucking you! He's so sweet, and so good! You can't take it! 

"Ness! Uh'hck! You're! You're my hero!" You're bawling. Your burning face is being lightly cooled by waves and waves of salty, liquid pent-up passion, that desperate romantic inside you revealing herself. She never wants to let go! "Fuck,  _fuck_ , baby, I-I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come!!" You're writhing, convulsing, trembling, letting go of him to pull at your hair, trying to cope as your pussy tightens and makes him seem even thicker. Your ass is clenched, your nipples ache, your belly is throbbing. He's so much, and you want him.  
  
"Paula," he shouts, and your whole body tweaks, feeling a potent jet of pre-come fire up into you. It's the best feeling you've ever experienced, feeling the man you love shoot something so hot, so sharp and solid inside of your body, and you want him to go all the way. You want him to come inside you, so, _so bad_ , but you can't have a kid, and you sure as hell don't wanna lose your figure this young (God you love your parents right now). You like being sexy, especially when this is what it gets you (seriously, you would take ten of him). Of course, that goes out the window if your womb gets what it wants.  
  
"No, no, no, pull out! _Pull out!_ " You yell, frantically. He just barely makes it in time, and he visibly thumps as the tip is just exiting. He thumps, thumps, his cock lifting a little each time, beginning to come, shoot his load all over your belly.  
  
"Auoh, augh!!" He's doubled over, his hands on your waist, arms flanking your thighs, pouring his divine nectar all over your soft, supple pelvis. It's so weird, feeling him jizz on you, but you love it, the implications of it. It's hot-- in this cool room, it's so hot it's actually steaming a little when it touches you, slips down your heaving tummy, filling your bellybutton, dipping between your hips, sliding towards your pussy, and the reddened minge shakes with your every sob-wracked breath. You watch his come slide all down your body, marking you, heating and cooling you, you're his, he's _yours_ , and fuck you, that is  _so goddamn hot!_

" _Haa_ \--?!" Your clit is suddenly coated, thoroughly insulated in his love, hot and cozy and stinging, and it sends you reeling, swept up in a brain-frying, energy-sapping, explosive orgasm.  
  
"AhHhH~!" You spasm, and twitch, writhing as you repeatedly push a hot, burning liquid out onto the sheets. Waves of heat and cold and electricity wash over you, and Ness leans down to kiss, lick, nibble your belly as you just keep coming ("Ouhh, uhh~, 'hck, auhh!"). It makes you squeeze with even more vigor, determined to show him how good he makes you feel. You hold his head, crying and groaning and gasping as you hump him, and after a couple more involuntary pulses, you slow down, and collapse into a sexy, disheveled heap. You feel full (a welcome placebo), and hot, and sticky. Good.  
  
You're breathing so hard, and your eyes sting still-- your view of the beige ceiling gets so blurry at the bottom. You hug Ness and whimper a wordless sound of gratitude, your lip still shaking as you vainly try to stop crying. You don't want to feel weak.  
  
"I love you," Ness quietly says, gazing up from your pudge to look you in the face. You smile through the tears, feeling your eyes begin to droop. He scoots closer, and kisses you on the lips. It was too out of nowhere to react to, but once the tingling in your lips fades, you smirk lovingly at him.  
  
"You're really good, you know that," you say, and when Ness doesn't say anything, you pull him down on top of you, his head now level with yours, and you hold him tight for a few seconds. He takes his turn to scratch your fluffy pseudo-bob, and you smile.

The deepness of the afterglow is slowly pulling you under, and his warm, silky chest helps it along, making you sigh deeply. His body heat keeps you and his (thick, _gooey_ ) come warm, and his stuff electrifying your clit every time he moves has you on Cloud Nine. He chuckles warmly at the halfhearted wiggling you're doing, and it reverberates through your body. As if switch-activated, you start lazily kissing all over his face, your bum now able to cool off from how much of your legs you're hugging him with. You can tell without opening your eyes that he likes that, having your sexy legs and fat ass caressing him, like they'd for so long been wont to do, but your grip and your motions start losing steam, as you let yourself be lulled to a state where you can fall asleep.

(You don't feel the comforter being lifted to cover you again, nor your pants being pulled back up, nor the chaste little kiss placed between your breasts prior to their being restricted once more.)  
  
Man, you love Summers.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not ready to date anybody yet and that hurts me deeply.
> 
> I cope by writing about sex.
> 
> ...Surprisingly, this is the case with a lot of writers.


End file.
